


Both of You Look Perfect for Both of Us

by LiraelClayr007



Series: Don't Think Too Much, Just Take A Chance [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Consent is Sexy, Dom Bucky Barnes, Drunk Bucky Barnes, Established Symbrock, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multi, Safeword Use, Sub Clint Barton, Subspace, bossy Bucky Barnes, but it's not super obvious, established winterhawk, so not secret anal but kinda, venom as the fourth, wintersymbrockhawk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29480958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiraelClayr007/pseuds/LiraelClayr007
Summary: When the Avengers' resident geniuses come up with a way for the two supersoldiers to actually get drunk, Clint volunteers to chaperone them (and Steve's boyfriend Sam) at the bar for an evening. He gets a lot more than he bargained for, what with Steve serenading Sam and Bucky turning into a hopeless flirt with the first disaster blond who walks into the place.Not that Clint exactly minds; watching Bucky flirt with Eddie Brock is almost perfect.If onlyhecould flirt with Eddie too.
Relationships: Background Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, James "Bucky" Barnes/ Clint Barton/Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Don't Think Too Much, Just Take A Chance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165436
Comments: 33
Kudos: 104
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	1. Can't Leave You Two Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vexbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/gifts).



> Vex, my muse, this is for you, because this is really as much your baby as it is mine. And it's 1000% your fault I'm sailing this ship ~~not that I'm complaining!!~~. 💜
> 
> So yeah...this is a new one. But I adore Eddie Brock, and the idea of Bucky falling for another disaster blond was too much to pass up. Writing these four was a treat...so much so that I've already been convinced by someone ~~vex~~ to turn this into a series. So hey...there's more coming!
> 
> Love,  
> Lira 🏹
> 
> I'm also using this for some Winterhawk Bingo fills!!
> 
> Chapter 1 - N3: Free Space  
> Chapter 2 - 05: Big Dick Clint Barton

“I love everyone in this bar!”

“Right,” Clint says, pulling Bucky down off the stool so he’s standing on the floor instead. He holds onto Bucky’s biceps until he’s steady, then asks, “Who had this brilliant idea for a night out again?”

Bucky turns and points at Sam. “It was Stevie!” His voice is overloud and slightly slurred.

Clint chuckles. “I’m so glad Tony and Bruce figured out how to get you two drunk. I mean, it’s absolutely not fair that you won’t have to suffer the hangover in the morning, but this is priceless.”

Bucky flashes him a confused look, then tries to sit on the stool, misses, and ends up leaning against the bar instead. “I’m not drunk,” he says.

“‘Course not,” Clint says, ruffling Bucky’s hair. Bucky glowers. “Not drunk at all.” He chuckles again then adds under his breath, “The best part is it only took two beers to get you like this.”

Across the room Steve stands on a chair and starts singing, “Yooooou aaaaare soooo beau-ti-ful…. to meeeeeeeee,” loudly and off-key, flailing his arms in what is probably supposed to be a dramatic fashion towards Sam as he sings.

“How many did _he_ have?”

Clint turns; there’s a blond leaning against the bar on the other side of Bucky. The blond is looking at Steve and Sam but Bucky’s only got eyes for the new guy. Clint wants to be jealous, but honestly Clint can’t blame him; Blond Guy’s wearing tight jeans and a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, and it is a look Clint can absolutely appreciate.

Before Clint can answer, Bucky leans into Blond Guy’s space and says, in what he probably thinks is a quiet voice, “What are you lookin’ at him for, sweetheart? He’s busy singin’ to his fella. Want _me_ to sing to _you_?”

“Easy there, Bucko,” Clint says, pulling him back six inches or so. Although, come to think of it, he’d quite like to see drunk Bucky singing to this guy. With his phone set to record, of course. He looks past Bucky into the eyes of Blond Guy, who seems to be enjoying the mess almost as much as Clint himself. “I’d say I’m sorry for this oaf here, but I’d be lying.” He grins, then adds, “I’m Clint.”

“Eddie.” He returns Clint’s smile. “Something tells me these guys don’t get out much.”

“They’re just not accustomed to the evils of drink.” Clint nods out towards Steve and Sam. “Those two are a pair, and this one here is mine.” He slings an arm across Bucky’s shoulders and almost knocks him over in the process.

Eddie shakes his head at him. “Don’t you think a booth would be safer? If he falls there there’s not far to fall. There’s a padded seat, or the wall...or at least the table.”

“Good plan,” Clint says, maneuvering his arm so it’s around Bucky’s waist. “Buy you a drink? I’ve got to stay sober to wrangle these idiots, but…”

“I’m buying him a drink!” Bucky interjects, trying to move towards the bar.

“We’re past that, Buck. Don’t worry, we’re all sitting down together, you can make eyes at him all you want.”

Eddie gives Clint a wry smile as they slide into a booth. “I think I’ll join you on the sober train, actually. My bike’s just outside, don’t want to crash it on the way back to my hotel.”

Bucky’s eyes light up. “Bike? You got a bike? Wanna take me for a riiiiiide?” His voice is dripping with innuendo, and Clint can’t hold back the bark of a laugh.

“You do remember that your boyfriend is here, right?” he asks, curious.

Bucky, who somehow ended up on the side of the table with Eddie, snorts at him. “You wanna go for a ride with him too, I can see it all over your face.”

Clint feels his face heat up, and hopes the light in the bar is low enough that Eddie can’t see. “I’ll just go get those drinks. Coke okay? You want another beer Buck?”

“Sure. Can’t even feel the first two.” He’s leaning on his elbow, face propped and soft against the silver of his hand, practically batting his eyelashes at Eddie.

“I’ll try to hurry back,” Clint says.

“We can handle him,” Eddie says.

For a brief moment Clint’s brain thinks _We?_ but then he’s on to other things, namely Sam and Steve waltzing around a makeshift dance floor, an especially odd sight since “Killer Queen” is playing on the jukebox. Not your everyday ballroom dancing kind of song. Others in the bar are starting to hoot and whistle, and when the song ends there’s an impromptu burst of applause. Clint takes a moment to check in with them on his way back to the booth; Sam’s only had one drink and is as amused with Steve as he is with Bucky.

“Never knew Cap could sing,” Clint says to Sam, who smirks.

“He can’t.” But Clint can see that Sam loves this, loves being out with Steve and laughing and being affectionate and seeing Steve be ridiculous.

“Did you get video?”

Sam laughs. “You know I did. I’m gonna make that his ringtone.”

Bucky and Eddie are deep in conversation when Clint sits down back at the booth. Thankfully, the conversation itself isn’t exactly deep.

“...loves purple. I’ve never seen a guy wear so much purple. Did you see his shoes? Purple!” He leans closer, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “Me, I like blue. Blue is nice. Clear. Bright.”

“Okay Romeo, that’s enough for now,” he says, passing Eddie his soda. He holds up Bucky’s beer and says, “I’ll give you this, but I think it’s probably the last one for tonight. You really are a cheap date, baby.”

Bucky takes the bottle, takes a long drink, then sticks out his lower lip, pouting. “Is good. You’re _mean_.”

“Isn’t he cute?” Clint asks Eddie.

Eddie looks a little flustered, like he’s not quite sure if there’s a right way to answer, but then just grins. “Gotta say, I never thought I’d have the Winter Soldier flirting with me. But yeah, he’s adorable.”

Clint tries to hold back his reaction, but his surprise must show on his face because Eddie laughs.

“Of course I know who you are. I watch the _news_.” He pauses briefly, eyes going a bit glassy, then mutters, “Not funny,” under his breath. Then he’s smiling again. “I might be from out of town, but the Winter Soldier is hard to miss.” He waves at Bucky’s hand. Bucky waves back, waggling his fingers in a little kid sort of way. Clint and Eddie both laugh, and the tiny bit of tension that almost was fades away.

“I didn’t know you two were a thing though, _Hawkeye_ ,” Eddie goes on, emphasizing Clint’s call sign. “Those two either,” he says, gesturing at Steve and Sam, who are now attempting a game of pool. Steve is holding the cue backwards; Sam is taking pictures.

“We aren’t exactly secret about it, but we aren’t flashy either,” Clint says, quietly pleased that someone actually recognized him.

Seemingly passing over the relationship news, Eddie says, “And didn’t I read somewhere that the two supersoldiers couldn’t get drunk? Something about their metabolism?”

“Hence the newness of their experiences tonight. Our resident genius–”

“Stark,” Eddie interrupts.

“That’s the one,” Clint says, “Although Banner lent his particular brand of genius to this one, too. Anyway, they made up a serum that negates the super metabolism for a short period of time. It doesn’t change anything else, so they’re still strong and have super hearing and all that, but for about six hours they can have a drink and actually feel the effects of the alcohol.” He balls up a napkin and flicks it at Bucky, hitting him square in the nose. Bucky’s reaction time is so slow he bats it away a full second after it hits him. “I didn’t realize it would take so little to get him drunk, though.”

Eddie gives Bucky a thoughtful look. “Well,” he says, turning back to Clint. “He hasn’t been drunk since the 40s. It’s kind of a shock to his system, right? That might make a difference.”

Before Clint can answer, Bucky leans his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “No fair talkin’ about me like I’m not here. I still have ears you know.” He lowers his voice to a very loud whisper. “ _Super_ ears.” He giggles.

“Is he always like this?” Eddie asks, laughing.

“Not quite,” Clint says, flicking another balled up napkin at Bucky’s nose. “He’s not as murdery in private as he looks in public, all dark and broody, but this may have been the first time I’ve ever heard him _giggle_.”

“I like it,” Eddie says, an easy grin on his face. “It’s reassuring, knowing our superheroes are so human.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly human, doll,” Bucky says, giving Eddie a lopsided grin. He attempts a wink but just ends up blinking both eyes at once.

“He’s not usually this flirty either,” Clint says, hoping he’s keeping the jealous twinge out of his voice. Part of him wishes he could be the drunk one, flirting with the sexy blond with the slight air of danger about him, and the other part wishes Bucky would do that adorable not-quite winky thing at him. But he knows Bucky loves him, and he loves Bucky, and no matter who flirts with who he knows in a few hours Bucky’s gonna fall asleep with his head on Clint’s chest and his hair across Clint’s face, and really what does anything else matter?

It takes a moment to realize Bucky and Eddie are both looking at him, and rather expectantly. “Sorry,” he says. “I got...sorry. Did you say something?” His face is hot again and he’s probably blushing. Again. It seems to be that kind of night.

And then Clint sees that Eddie looks almost...worried. “I just asked if you minded. The flirting. I can go, I’m not trying to–”

Clint smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way, even raises his hands in surrender. “It’s fine. I know he loves me, he knows I love him. A little teasing in a bar isn’t gonna come between us.”

“I’d like to have _him_ come between us,” Bucky interjects, and Eddie nearly chokes on his soda.

“That’s a conversation we should save for when you’re a little more clear-headed, Buck,” Clint says, fighting the shiver that goes down his spine at the thought. Eddie looks at him with curiosity but doesn’t say anything, and Clint lets it go.

“Know you want it too,” Bucky mutters under his breath, scowling at nothing in particular.

Clint’s trying to figure out exactly how to respond to that (absolutely true) statement when a crash from across the room rescues him. He looks up to see Cap on the floor, a shattered table beneath him and a rather stunned look on his face.

“I’d better go see what’s what,” Clint says, sliding out of the booth. And if he avoids Eddie’s gaze, well, he’s keeping an eye on Steve, right?

There’s a small crowd around Steve and Sam, but everything seems to be okay. Sam looks up when he hears Clint get close. “He’s fine,” Sam says. “He just forgot that he can’t fly. And also that he’s a big solid guy and maybe rickety bar tables can’t hold him when he leaps onto them from ten feet away.”

“He...what now?”

“His exact words were, ‘My boyfriend has wings, just like my heart.’ And then he lept off the pool table.” Sam and Clint stare at each other for a second, then two, then they both burst out laughing. Steve, still trying to figure out how he got onto the floor, looks between the two of them and asks, “Is something funny?” in such an innocent voice that they laugh even harder.

“I think maybe it’s time to go home,” Clint says as he and Sam haul Steve to his feet. “I’ll collect Bucky. Can you talk to the bartender? Just give him this.” He hands Sam a card made special for such occasions, with a direct line to JARVIS at the Tower.

Sam gives him a nod, and as he leads Steve away Clint hears him ask, “So, how’s America’s ass feeling now?”

“–s _huge_ ,” Bucky says as Clint makes it back to their booth. He’s gesticulating emphatically, and Eddie’s red-faced and choking on his Coke again.

“I–uh–I mean, that’s not–would you please _stop talking_ –” Eddie’s eyes go wide and he says, “No, sorry, I didn’t mean either of you. I’m just–” He thumps his head on the wall behind him, then he turns to Bucky and says, almost pleads, “Could we possibly change the subject?”

Bucky looks confused. “But I like talking about Clint’s dick.”

It’s funny. Clint’s been in a lot of horrible situations. Alien attacks, collapsing buildings, hostage negotiations. But there’s never a crisis when he _needs_ one.

Like right now.

“And on that note,” Clint says, too loud and too bright, “it’s time for us to go home. Steve broke a table, and it’s bad enough that it’s gonna be all over YouTube in half an hour, we don’t need a crowd rushing down to see Captain America drunk off his ass. Or, in this case, _on_ his ass.”

“I get that,” Eddie says, and there’s a twinge of sadness in his voice. And then he smiles, a cute, ‘aw, shucks’ kind of smile, and says to Bucky, “Hey, give me your phone.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, suspicious. “Are you gonna give it back?”

Clint laughs. “He’s giving you his number, Buck. Thought you’d be over the moon, you’ve been makin’ googly eyes at him all night.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh, but is there a faint blush on his cheeks too? It’s hard to tell in the dim yellow light of the bar. “Hey, I’ve never met Avengers before. Thought maybe we could do something when all three of us are...sober? I’ve been away from New York for ages, and I don’t really know anyone here anymore…”

The whole time Eddie’s talking Bucky just sits there, giving him a dreamy look, clearly thinking of doing more than just seeing the City with Eddie. This is maybe the best part of drunk Bucky; normally he actively tries to hide what he’s thinking and feeling, but right now everything inside is displayed perfectly on his face.

And as Eddie hands Bucky’s phone back to him, Clint has to wonder: _would_ Eddie be up for more than just hanging out with them? He and Bucky have talked about it before, hooking up with a third, but it’s never quite worked out. Eddie, though...Eddie seems almost perfect. If Bucky still thinks it’s a good idea tomorrow, when he’s sober…

Well. That’s for tomorrow to worry about. Right now he’s got two supersoldiers and a big metal bird to get home safe.

“Glad to meet you, Eddie,” Clint says, resting a hand on his shoulder for just a moment before reaching for Bucky. There’s the tiniest shiver under Clint’s hand, and he thinks to himself, _well, we’ve certainly got **chemistry**._

And then Bucky’s saying goodbye, still too loud but somehow sweet too, and Clint can’t help be charmed when Bucky kisses Eddie’s cheek. Eddie’s eyes flash to his over Bucky’s shoulder, a sort of ‘is this okay?’ combined with ‘oh fuck I want more’ fighting in his gaze, and Clint thinks again, _yeah, chemistry_. If Bucky wasn’t out of his mind they’d take Eddie home tonight, see what else those eyes could–

“Hey Goose, you big stud!” Bucky’s call interrupts his thoughts, and he responds with a grin and a wink. They’ve used this routine before. Although usually he’s the one playing Meg Ryan.

“That’s me, honey.”

“Take me to bed or lose me forever!”

Eddie gives Bucky a little push towards Clint and says, “Better do what the man says, Clint.”

Clint slings an arm around Bucky’s waist, but on the way past Eddie he leans close and murmurs, “You know he’ll probably be asleep _before_ I can get him home, right?”

Eddie’s laugh is low and warm, sparking something in Clint’s belly. “You’ll be lucky if you can get him out the door.”

An elbow in Clint’s chest snaps him out of the moment. “You didn’t do your line, doll,” Bucky complains. It’s almost– _almost_ –a whine, and Clint can’t wait to tease him about it in the morning. Clint leans down and kisses Bucky on the mouth, a kiss that starts soft and gentle and turns into something a bit more frantic until he remembers where they are and pulls away, both of them breathing heavy. “Just show me the way home, honey,” he murmurs, and Bucky smiles. He can see his Bucky in those eyes, the haze of alcohol starting to lift, and he thinks again of reaching out…

But then Bucky’s pulling him towards the door, towards Sam and Steve and home, and he calls back over his shoulder, “Bye, Eddie. We’ll call you tomorrow!”

Turning back to Clint he asks, suddenly unsure, “We can, can’t we?”

_He’s like a kid with a crush_ , Clint thinks. He kisses Bucky’s temple and murmurs, “Yeah, sweetheart. I think we can.”

He gets one last look at Eddie, tall and shadowed and calling to him like some kind of siren, before they duck through the door and into the cool of the New York summer night.

Less than an hour later, after manhandling Bucky out of his clothes and into their bed, Clint’s just about to take out his aids when Bucky stops him.

“’m too tired to sign,” he says, and something pings in Clint’s heart.

“Alright.”

They sit for a minute that stretches to two, but Clint can wait.

Finally, a hitched breath, then, “I like him.”

Clint’s laugh is instant, but not unkind. “I noticed that, sweetheart. I think you have a type.” Bucky starts to protest, but then, blushing, just nods. Clint laughs again, and he takes Bucky’s face in his hands, kissing him softly. “I like him too.” He kisses Bucky again, still soft, like moonlight falling across his lips. “We’ll talk to him tomorrow. Maybe something can come of it.” Bucky looks in his eyes, and Clint feels trust and love overwhelm him. He pulls out his aids, throws them on the bedside table, and pulls Bucky against his chest. “Come on, love. Let’s sleep.”


	2. It's More Fun in the Middle Anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Want dessert?” Clint asks. Eddie’s eyes light up, and Bucky knows just what Clint wants. They walk up the block to an ice cream shop, three in a line with Eddie in the middle, close enough that they’re bumping shoulders or arms on occasion. The chemistry’s grown since the night before, the little shivers and sparks are threatening to start a fire.
> 
> They sit by a fountain to eat their ice cream cones. Watching Eddie lick melted ice cream off the sides of the cone, off his fingers, is driving Clint out of his mind. He wonders how Eddie is faring, if the two of them are having any effect on him. And then Clint looks, sees the rapid beat of Eddie’s heart in his chest, hears the way his breath sometimes catches when he speaks… Yeah, they’re reading it right. He wants them too.

Bucky tries to make Clint call.

Clint leans back on the sofa, feet on the coffee table, hands behind his head. “Nothin’ doin’, sweetheart. This isn’t seventh grade. I’m not gonna ask the cute boy if he wants to go on a date with you.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.” Bucky’s glare could probably chill his coffee; good thing his cup is empty already.

“Yep.”

“And you’re taking such pleasure from my discomfort because…”

Grinning, Clint says, “You didn’t even have the decency to wake up with a headache. You could have at least winced when the light hit your eyes, or groaned and rolled over and grumbled about staying in bed for another few hours. But no. You rolled out of bed like you always do. You even did pushups without complaining.”

“I made you coffee.”

“Yes, and that’s why I’m not teasing you more.”

They stare at each other; Bucky wearing his murder glare, Clint trying not to laugh. Finally Bucky mutters, “Oh, fuck it,” under his breath and hits Eddie’s number on his phone.

They meet for lunch at a burger joint Bucky picks, but Clint makes them both promise they can get pizza for dinner, if they’re still ‘hanging out.’ They haven’t talked about anything yet, but there’s a crackle of something between the three of them; the unspoken words seem to linger in the air like a cloud of butterflies.

Clint’s astonished at Eddie’s appetite. “I live with two supersoldiers, and I’ve never seen anyone eat like you. Do you work out or something?”

“Well, I’ve got a–” Eddie jumps, almost like something bit him, and he hisses, “I was _not_ going to say–would you just _get a grip_?” He flashes Clint and Bucky a sort of nervous smile, shrugs, then says, “I’ve got a lot going, I keep pretty active. I’m most always hungry.”

“Want dessert?” Clint asks. Eddie’s eyes light up, and Bucky knows just what Clint wants. They walk up the block to an ice cream shop, three in a line with Eddie in the middle, close enough that they’re bumping shoulders or arms on occasion. The chemistry’s grown since the night before, the little shivers and sparks are threatening to start a fire.

They sit by a fountain to eat their ice cream cones. Watching Eddie lick melted ice cream off the sides of the cone, off his fingers, is driving Clint out of his mind. He wonders how Eddie is faring, if the two of them are having any effect on him. And then Clint looks, sees the rapid beat of Eddie’s heart in his chest, hears the way his breath sometimes catches when he speaks… Yeah, they’re reading it right. He wants them too.

After the ice cream they walk and talk; altogether it’s been over three hours since they met for lunch. It’s good to know they have more in common than just having fun making fun of Bucky’s ridiculousness. He catches Bucky’s eye and reads there everything he needs to know: Bucky wants Eddie, they _both_ want Eddie, and his heart does a little skip at the mere thought. And he can feel that Eddie wants it too. But Eddie isn’t going to ask, it’s up to them. So why isn’t Bucky…

And that’s when he looks at Bucky again, and sees the little smirk on his lips, the delight in his eyes. The look that says, ‘You made me make the phone call, so now it’s your turn.’

The asshole.

So Clint does what he does best, plunges forward without thinking.

“Hey Eddie,” he says, cutting off Bucky in the middle of a question about some motorcycle or other.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Do you want to come up to our place? For, uh…” And maybe he should have thought at least a little, because he can’t remember any words. Eddie’s looking at him with a question in his eyes, and Bucky’s trying not to laugh–okay, he does remember one word, _asshole_ , that’s a word for his boyfriend–so instead of speaking he puts his hand on the side of Eddie’s face. He steps closer, right into Eddie’s space, until their faces are just inches apart. “Okay?” he asks softly.

Eddie nods.

His lips are soft and warm, and taste of the mint ice cream he’d been eating not long ago. Clint pulls away again after only a breath; they’re standing still on a busy sidewalk and he doesn’t want to start anything with a crowd of on-the-go New Yorkers. He takes a moment to look into Eddie’s blue eyes, though, to see the light lingering there.

And then time is moving again, and he hears Bucky eagerly ask, “Me too?”

Eddie laughs, and Clint’s heart leaps, and when Eddie says, “Oh yes,” and pushes Bucky into the side of the nearest building, it’s one of the hottest things Clint’s ever seen. And he’s been dating Bucky fucking Barnes for over a year now, so he’s seen more than his share of very hot things.

Bucky’s flushed before Eddie’s lips touch his, excited at the prospect, maybe more excited at being slammed into a wall like he’s nothing. Clint’s strong, but not _that_ strong. He looks Eddie up and down, wondering again what’s hidden beneath the surface.

He can’t wait to find out.

Their kiss is less chaste, less tentative, and Clint draws in a breath; he’s waiting for jealousy to flare, but it doesn’t. He’s wildly turned on by the two men and wishes he could be somehow kissing them both right now, sure, but he’s mostly just glowing with happiness and love for Bucky and the ecstasy that comes with mutual attraction.

Eddie’s got Bucky hard against the wall; their chests are pressed together and his thigh is nestled between Bucky’s. And unlike the night before, when he was all loose and pliant, Bucky’s pushing back. He’s got one hand tugging at the belt loops on Eddie’s jeans and the other pulling at his hair. Eddie’s got a hand fisted in Bucky’s hair too, and Clint’s curious to see how this’ll play out. It doesn’t matter much to him either way, but it’ll be fun to watch. It’s not until Bucky bites at Eddie’s lower lip–something he’s done to Clint many times and gives Clint a sympathetic shiver down his spine–and Eddie moans in response does Clint jolt back to the world around them.

“Uh, guys? I’m not complaining or anything, but do you remember that we’re standing on a city street?” They break apart, both breathing heavily, and look at Clint with the same sheepish expressions in their eyes. Clint grins. “I really was enjoying the view. But maybe somewhere with a, uh, bed… might be better?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

They consider the Bed-Stuy apartment but ultimately decide on the Tower for the single reason that it has a bigger, sturdier bed. It takes twice as long to walk there as it should; they visit every dark alley on the way, plus a few deeper doorways and one walled garden. At one point he’s kissing Bucky and Eddie’s behind him, sucking bruises on the side of his neck. He’s pretty sure his brain is going to short circuit.

By the time they stumble out of the elevator and Clint presses his hand to the scanner outside their door he wishes they’d just called a quinjet to pick them up. He’d have been willing to write the expense report himself: _Hey Cap. We needed to get back to the Tower so we could fuck. Thanks for the lift. C.F. Barton_

They don’t make it to the bedroom. Bucky pushes Clint onto the sofa with one hand and pulls Eddie after them with the other. For a minute they are only a tangle of arms and legs and mouths trying to find skin.

Then Eddie breathes, “Wait.”

Clint’s stomach clenches, and his face must show his distress–Bucky tells him all the time he must have been the worst spy on the planet, he’s so easy to read; such a _sweet_ thing for his boyfriend to say–because Eddie’s eyes soften and he situates himself so he can hold Clint’s face in his hands. “I’m not saying no,” he says. He only breaks eye contact to turn to Bucky and say the same thing. “I’m _not_ saying no.” He looks back and forth between them, scrubs a hand on the back of his neck and takes a deep breath.

And then he laughs.

“Fuck. I’ve never had to have this conversation before, and I have no idea where to start.”

Bucky and Clint exchange a quick glance, then look back at Eddie, now pacing back and forth in front of the sofa. “Most people would say the beginning, but I’m not most people,” Clint says. “Just jump in wherever feels right, that’s what I say.”

“Ah, okay,” Eddie says; he sounds a little confused but then he starts talking.

And then Clint and Bucky get to be the confused ones.

“So the thing is, I’m never alone. I have a–oh, be quiet, I was _not_ going to say parasite!–I have a rather unique situation, is what I have. When you talk to me, you’re not just talking to me, you’re talking to… well. Anyway. It’s not so bad when we’re just talking. I get a little jumpy sometimes, but I can deal. But I’m pretty sure during sex he’s going to make himself known, and I don’t want you to start shooting or do anything to hurt him, because...well. By now he’s really a part of _me_. Not that we’re the same, but we _need_ each other now. I think.” He looks up at Clint and Bucky and must see only blank faces because he laughs that ‘I’m so fucked’ laugh again. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Clint says, trying to reassure him. “We’re pretty used to weird around here.”

Bucky nods, then gestures at Clint. “Have you seen this guy?” This pulls a smile from Eddie, and Bucky and Clint smile back. “Just take your time. We can wait.”

“I’m usually quite good at expressing myself,” Eddie says. “It’s...it’s kinda what I do. But _this…_ ” He falls to his knees in front of them, frustration all over his face.

“Why don’t you let _me_ handle this?” says a low, growly voice from just over Eddie’s left shoulder.

Clint nearly jumps out of his skin. It’s not just a voice. There’s...a face. A jet black face, mostly featureless, that looks almost liquid in consistency; it doesn’t have a neck, or anything else, really, but has a–tendril?–of the same black substance connecting it to...to…

Oh.

“So you two are…”

“Symbiotic.” says the face. “We are Venom.”

“ _He_ is Venom. _I’m_ Eddie.” He pauses, then adds, “Except that sometimes we’re Venom...together.”

Clint’s still trying to take everything in when he hears Bucky draw in a quick breath beside him. “You’re from San Francisco,” he says. He sounds almost triumphant, like he just fit the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle.

Eddie looks embarrassed. “You’ve seen some of the footage.”

“Clint, remember that clip Steve showed us a few months back? The big black hulking thing out in California, running up the side of a skyscraper in a way that puts even Spidey to shame?”

And then Clint remembers too. “Right! And–oh. Did you really eat that dude’s _head_?”

“Hey, that’s all Venom, that’s not me,” Eddie says, raising his hands. “He’s pretty much always hungry, and live food is best. But I only ever let him eat bad guys.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking nervous. “We have a rule.”

Clint and Bucky exchange a look. Clint shrugs. He can live with that. He’s known rather a lot of bad people who deserved to be eaten.

“So,” Eddie says. “I just thought you should all, ah, meet. Before.” He looks at Bucky, then at Clint, then reaches a hand back towards Venom. A tendril of blackness branches off and wraps around his hand in what looks to be a comforting manner.

“Wait,” Clint says, looking at Venom. “You can just make yourself into whatever form you need?”

“Within reason,” he says.

Bucky, catching on, asks, “And if we have sex, you’ll want to, ah, participate?”

A low, pleased growl comes from Venom, and then he says, “Most likely. If I’m wanted.” The last bit is quieter, almost insecure.

“You’ve been talkin’ to us all along, haven’t you. Through Eddie,” Bucky says. It isn’t a question.

Eddie nods. “Mostly it was me talking, but sometimes I was passing on his thoughts. I can’t help it, really. He’s in my head.”

“Then we fell for both of you,” Clint says. He reaches out a hand towards Venom, curious what the creature feels like. “May I?”

In way of an answer a thin black tendril meets him halfway, wraps around his hand and wrist almost like a handshake and a hug combined. He’s warmer than Clint had expected, and _soft_. Almost like velvet.

“Sex with Venom is...” Eddie chews on his lower lip, searching for a word. “Exhilarating. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”

Bucky gives him a look. “I thought you said you’ve never had this conversation before. Are you telling me you had sex with someone and didn’t tell–”

Eddie’s face turns red, and Clint collapses with laughter. “I don’t think there was anyone else involved, Buck.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to blush. “Oh. Well, that’s… well. Okay then.”

The other three laugh, and then so does Bucky, and then the tension that had been building in the room fades away.

The heat is still there, though, the _spark_. Clint wants Eddie more than ever. He’s not sure what Venom will add to the whole thing but he wants to find out.

Now.

“Eddie,” he says, and his voice goes rough somewhere in the middle of the name. “If I try to kiss you now, will you let me? Or are you going to tell me to wait again. Because I really don’t want to wait anymore.” He gives Eddie a lopsided grin as he leans in closer and closer.

Eddie doesn’t wait. At the last second he surges forward, capturing Clint’s mouth with his, pushing him back onto the sofa so their bodies are pressed together. Clint’s head lands on Bucky’s lap and suddenly he’s awash in sensation–Eddie’s lips on his, his tongue teasing until Clint opens up and lets him in; Eddie’s hands on his face, thumbs playing along his cheekbones and fingertips pressing into the sides of his neck; Eddie’s body along his, all muscle and strength holding him down but taking care to not hurt him; Bucky’s fingers running through his hair. And then he feels more fingers, this time gently brushing against the bare skin just above his jeans; he almost yelps, but then he realizes they aren’t fingers, they’re tendrils, or tentacles, or whatever–they are bits of Venom, exploring his skin, and he moans into Eddie’s mouth.

“Oh _fuck_.”

Clint can’t see what’s going on, but he realizes Bucky must be getting acquainted with Venom too. Oh fuck, he really wants to see that. He’s barely able to hold a thought in his head, but somehow he manages to move his arms enough to push Eddie off him, just a bit. He gasps in a few shuddering breaths before saying, “Bed? Please?” He’d intended to make it a sentence but apparently that ability is gone for the moment.

Eddie grins before leaning down for another searing kiss, full of heat and promise, biting Clint’s lower lip as he pulls away. “You’re the one who started this, babe.”

“But…” Clint’s almost whimpering.

“Oh hush,” Bucky breaks in. He slides out from under Clint, stands up, and looks at Eddie appraisingly. “Come on,” he says. Before Eddie has a chance to answer, Bucky picks him up, throws him over his shoulder, and carries him to the bedroom.

Clint’s stomach flip-flops. He scrambles to his feet–which don’t want to work–and stumbles after them. “Wait for me!” he calls.

He’s just inside the room when he sees Eddie toss Bucky onto the bed like a rag doll. A sound comes from his own mouth, something like, “Hnnng.” Eddie, now on all fours over Bucky, snaps his head back to look at Clint, a look of utter _want_ on his face and a silvery gleam in his eyes.

“Venom?”

Eddie gives him a puzzled look. “He always hears you, if that’s what you mean. He’s always… Oh. The eye thing. He did that on purpose, so you’d see, sort of like, ‘hey look, I’m in here too.’”

“It’s not likely I’ll forget. Not many people can carry Bucky around like a stuffed animal.”

Eddie grins. “Liked that, did you?”

Clint’s standing by the bed now–when did that happen? He doesn’t remember crossing the floor–and another needy whine comes from somewhere in his chest.

“I’m not sure I’m gonna let you two leave,” Bucky drawls. “I like hearing sounds like that from my sweetheart.”

Clint turns to Eddie, feeling almost wicked. “He’s acting like he’s in charge or something. Let’s take off his clothes.”

Bucky yelps as the other two pounce on him. “Hold him down!” Clint shouts. Eddie sits on Bucky’s thighs and puts his hands at Bucky’s waist. “No, hold his–” Clint starts, but before he can finish tendrils of Venom come from each of Eddie’s wrists and attach to Bucky’s, stretching his arms straight out to form a “T” shape with his body. Clint gasps; he sees Bucky test the bonds, but even with his supersoldier strength–even with the metal arm–he can’t break free.

“Color?” he asks Bucky.

Bucky takes a breath, then says, “Green. Wow. _Fuck_. So fucking green.”

“We kinda moved fast,” Clint says. “But stoplights–”

Eddie nods. “I am aware.”

“Good,” Clint says. “Now where were we?” He nods at Eddie, who leans down and kisses Bucky. First on the mouth, hard and deep, and then along his jaw, and then down his neck. Bucky makes little moans and hissing noises at the bruises being sucked into his skin. Clint’s own skin prickles, seeing the little twitches, hearing the sounds. He’s draped beside them, his hands exploring whatever bits of Eddie he can reach. The muscles of his chest are well-defined beneath his shirt; Eddie’s slowly working on getting Bucky’s shirt off–it’s pushed up to his neck but not yet over his head–and Clint’s trying to figure out if he can skip ahead to the next step and get his hand onto Eddie’s skin.

Eddie leans over a little further and his shirt rides up enough that Clint sees a small strip of his back, and his side, and that decides it right there. He’s been patient enough, hasn’t he? “Eddie,” he breathes, ghosting a hand up Eddie’s side, pushing the shirt up higher and higher, sliding around to his back to feel the play of muscles as he moves. And Venom is there too, rippling just below the surface, an almost inaudible hum. Eddie’s breath hitches; he’s kissing Bucky again and Clint’s teasing sensitive bits of his skin and apparently it’s rather a lot to take at once.

Good.

And then it’s Clint who gasps, because Venom reaches out with a tentacle and wraps it around Clint’s wrist, snaking up his arm to tease at his neck.

“I told you,” Eddie murmurs, not bothering to look away from Bucky.

“So wait,” says Clint, not really wanting anyone to stop at all, just trying to get a few things straight in his head. “Eddie. When I touch you, does Venom feel it too?”

“Yes,” says Venom’s low, growly voice. It’s right next to his ear.

The tentacle has a mouth now.

“Fuck!” Clint yelps.

“Please don’t stop touching us,” Venom says. “We like it.”

“Yes we do,” Eddie agrees.

Bucky, seemingly lost in his own hazy place, just makes a happy kind of noise. Clint notices his shirt is off now. He really should take Eddie’s off too. It only seems fair.

He’s on his knees now, and he’s got both hands on Eddie’s skin. Venom is humming near his ear, squeezing his arm gently. When he starts tugging Eddie’s shirt up to pull it off Eddie says, “Hey, I thought we were taking Bucky’s clothes off?”

Clint pulls him close, so Eddie’s back is against his chest. Burying his face in Eddie’s neck he murmurs, “What can I say? I’ve seen Bucky naked. Lots of times. But I’ve never seen what you’re hiding under this shirt. Please?” The last word is said with all the ‘aw shucks poor me’ he can muster, and Eddie actually laughs. 

“Go ahead,” Eddie says, like he’s giving in even though he probably shouldn’t. Clint smiles into Eddie’s skin, peppering the area he can reach with tiny kisses. Then he slowly drags his hands up Eddie’s sides, feels him shiver at the touch. “Mmmm…” he hums, practically glowing at the attention.

“I wanted to do this pretty much from the time you started talking to us at the bar, you know,” Clint says conversationally. His hands are still creeping along Eddie’s skin, slowly, slowly inching their way up far enough to take his shirt off. Eddie’s leaning back against him now, starting to breath heavily. Clint looks at Bucky; he’s still being held down by Venom, but seems to be greatly enjoying his view. Clint catches his eye and winks. “Well, what I really wanted was to kiss that pretty smile of yours.” He pulls the shirt over Eddie’s head, then pauses so Bucky can get a good look. After a good thirty seconds he pulls Eddie back against his chest again and leans over to suck a bruise into his throat. A perfectly obscene noise is punched out of Bucky and Clint smiles into Eddie’s skin again. Eddie himself seems to be lost in the moment.

“Color, Eddie?”

Eddie shakes his head, just a little, then says, “Green. Very green. I was just… It was good. I was lost in you, that’s all.” He blushes a little, and it’s nice to know he’s not the only one being affected this way.

Nipping at his ear, Clint whispers, “Bucky now?”

“I heard that.” Bucky tries to sound all tough but since his voice comes out mostly breath he mostly just sounds aroused and needy.

Eddie nods. “Yeah. Together.”

They alternate kissing Bucky’s mouth and his neck or his chest, sometimes sucking bruises along his collarbone, sometimes teasing at his nipples. His eyes are glazed, pupils blown wide, awash in sensation. Venom is still holding Bucky’s arms, but Clint also catches glimpses of inky black tentacles slipping across Bucky’s abdomen, even teasing at the button of his pants. When Bucky’s hips start to buck he sees that Venom actually has a tentacle down the front of Bucky’s pants.

“Hey, that’s cheating,” Clint says, though he actually thinks it’s wildly hot.

“The fuck it is,” Bucky says. His back arches off the bed; he practically howls as he comes.

Clint and Eddie both run fingers through Bucky’s hair as he comes down; they kiss Bucky and each other and just take a moment to pause. At some point Venom releases Bucky’s arms and he tries to hold the others, but yelps instead at the discomfort in his shoulders. So Eddie and Clint massage his shoulders and pecs; thanks to the supersoldier serum it only takes a minute or two before he’s feeling fine. But he doesn’t let them lie still for long. “I really want to get my pants off,” he says, blushing a bit. “Not just because I’m not done with you yet–which I’m not–but because it’s really uncomfortable wearing wet pants.” Really blushing now he says, “Fuck, I feel like a teenager, coming in my pants like that.”

“To be fair, it was three on one,” Eddie says. “You didn’t have much of a chance.” He kisses Bucky softly on each pink cheek.

With some effort Clint rolls himself off the bed. “Try to get his pants off,” he says to Eddie. “I’ll go get something to clean him up.” As he’s running the water in the bathroom, warming it up, he hears Eddie say, “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s _your_ pants I’m trying to get into, Clint.”

Clint almost trips getting back to the bed. He yelps, hops on one foot a few times to ease the pain in his stubbed toe, then yelps again when he steps on a discarded shoe and nearly falls again. When he finally makes it to the bed he looks at Eddie and says, “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t Bucky tell you? He spent about ten minutes last night extolling the virtues of your, and I’m quoting here, ‘big fucking dick.’ Why do you think I gave him my number? He told me I should call him sometime, ‘cause I might have a chance to see it for myself.” Eddie and Bucky are both grinning at him; Eddie with expectation, Bucky with wickedness in his eyes.

Clint can feel his face heat up. Yeah, he’s bigger than some. Maybe bigger than most. But it’s not–he doesn’t that want to be–

“Ease up,” Eddie says, crawling to him. “I gave him my number because he’s an adorable flirt, and because you’re both hot as hell, and because I enjoyed every moment of your company last night. If I get a chance to ride your dick…” He straddles Clint’s lap and kisses him, starting sweet, but quickly turning filthy, biting at his lip and sucking at his tongue, rolling his hips so his erection pushes into Clint’s stomach. It’s not long before Clint’s breathless. “If I get that chance,” he says, looking into Clint’s eyes from mere inches away, “that’s just a bonus.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. “Okay.”

“Can I interrupt this moment to ask if I can please take my pants off now?” Bucky asks, and they both turn to look at him. “Not that you aren’t beautiful to look at, but remember? Sticky, wet pants?”

“He’s very needy,” Eddie says.

“Always,” Clint says. “Still, with that face, that body…” He waves a hand in a gesture that encompasses all of Bucky.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. He can pretty much get what he wants, can’t he.”

“It’s very hard to say no to him.”

“You idiots know I’m still here, right?” Bucky growls.

Clint makes a shushing sound, then says, “How could we ever forget you, sweetheart?” He gives Bucky a wink then adds, “It’s not like you need permission to take your pants off, and Venom’s not holding you down anymore. You can do it yourself, you know.”

“Well I would, but you two are sitting on my foot. So I think I’ll just stay here until you get up.”

They both jump a little at that, and then Clint can feel Bucky’s foot under his thigh. They scramble to move out of the way and end up kneeling on either side of Bucky.

“Fuck! Bucky I’m–”

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize. Watchin’ you two was a gift.”

Clint and Eddie look at each other and move together at the same time, kissing each other over Bucky. He only gives them about ten seconds before he clears his throat. “That’s nice and all,” he drawls, “but _pants_. Three pairs. Off. _Now_.”

“Wow,” Eddie says. “Both needy _and_ bossy.”

“You have no idea,” Clint says.

“Oh for the–” Bucky starts, but before he can finish there are hands and tentacles pulling at his pants. Clint finds the washcloth he brought out but it’s cold now, so he goes back to the bathroom to warm it up, and this time he makes it back to the bed without incident. He cleans Bucky up as Eddie and Venom explore his skin, now all exposed. Bucky looks fucking gorgeous, head thrown back, hair spread wild across his pillow, hands fisted in the bedsheets. Thanks to the supersoldier serum he’s hard again, hard and panting. “I said three pairs,” he says between breaths. “How come the only dick I see is mine?”

“Fine,” Clint says, as if it’s some kind of hardship. He climbs off the bed and is stepping out of his pants in less than a second, then just stands there, watching the others. Until Eddie takes notice.

“Fuck me, you weren’t lying, Bucky,” Eddie says, and Clint feels his face heating up again. But he loves it too, because he’s always loved attention and it’s no different during sex. He can feel eyes on him, and it’s _good_. It’s so good when it’s Bucky, when Bucky tells him he’s good, and having Eddie and Venom here just amps up his need to perform. So despite his blush, he grins.

“See something you like?” he asks in a teasing voice.

“Go get him, Eddie,” Bucky says.

Eddie moves _fast_ , faster even than Bucky, and he wonders for a moment if Venom feels like moving at normal human speeds is slow. But then Eddie is standing in front of him, so close, their chests a hair’s breadth apart. He can feel heat radiating from him–no, from _them_ , because it must be Venom generating the extra heat, more heat than even Bucky. Just as Eddie moves to touch him, Clint’s skin singing in anticipation, Bucky clears his throat again.

“That’s still only two pairs of pants,” he says. Clint can hear the teasing lilt in his voice; the asshole enjoyed waiting until just the right moment to stop them. Okay, _yes_ , he wants Eddie naked too. But _fuck_ , he wants those hands on his skin, and Bucky knows it.

“I’m at least getting a kiss first,” Clint grumbles before capturing Eddie’s mouth with his own. It’s just a quick kiss, a promise, and it’s mostly to piss Bucky off anyway, but it still tingles. They’re both smiling after, and when Eddie unfastens his pants and Clint slips his hands down the back, helping slide them to the floor, it’s right and easy.

“Fucking finally,” Bucky says with a dramatic sigh, but Eddie and Clint ignore him. Mostly. Eddie winks at Clint, who crinkles his eyes in a smile. But then Eddie’s got his hands on Clint’s chest, running his fingertips slowly downwards across the sensitive skin, and when he reaches Clint’s hips he sinks to his knees.

A sound is punched out of Clint, a kind of “ooof” sound, and he vaguely hears Bucky chuckling in the background, but he can’t focus on anything because Eddie’s tounge is on his dick, teasing little kitten licks from the base up to the head and back down to his balls, and all he can think is _stars_ and _sparks_ and _tongue_ and _oh fuck I’d better not fall over_.

It’s possible he says that last part out loud, because a moment ( _a minute? an hour?_ ) later Bucky is behind him, kneeling on the bed and pressing his chest against Clint’s back to help support his weight. Clint throws his head back onto Bucky’s shoulder and cries out, not coming but already overwhelmed, but after only a breath he has to look down again, because those blue eyes looking up at him add to the explosion waiting to happen.

Eddie stops his tiny licks, sits back on his heels, and smiles. Clint makes a whimpering sound, and Eddie says, “I’m not done, baby, just admiring the view.” Then he comes forward again, running his hands along Clint's thighs, and takes Clint’s dick into his mouth.

Clint keens.

“Put your hands in his hair,” Bucky murmurs, and Clint does it without thinking, not controlling Eddie’s bobbing head but only feeling the softness in his fingers. Bucky starts kissing his shoulder, murmuring encouraging words in between kisses. He’s got an arm wrapped around him, pressed across his chest and gripping his shoulder, a solid weight holding him steady, and soon Clint is just lost, sometimes turning his head to kiss Bucky, sometimes looking down at Eddie, his lips stretched wide, trying to take as much as he can. Sometimes he just squeezes his eyes shut because it’s _so much_.

And then, when it doesn’t seem possible, there’s _more_. There’s a sensation of heat from where Eddie’s hands are gripping his thighs and he looks down to see Venom wrapping himself up Clint’s thigh and around his waist, and he’s so fascinated by that he doesn’t see the tentacle curling around his balls and the base of his cock. He cries out again; there might be words but it might just be a cry of pure pleasure, and without warning his orgasm tears through him. Bucky, Eddie, and Venom hold him through it, each of them giving him reassuring touches, and when he’s done they spread him on the bed and drape themselves over him for a brief moment of rest.

Clint’s bones feel like jello. He wants to lie here forever, feeling the euphoria and the heavy weight of Bucky and Eddie on top of him. He actually starts to drift off, not to sleep but in the sort of twilight that sometimes comes post-orgasm, when his brain catches up with what just happened.

“Fuck!” he shouts, and Eddie and Bucky both jump. He even hears a growl from Eddie that can only be Venom; apparently his rest can be disturbed as well. “Eddie, I– _fuck_ , I wasn’t even thinking. I’m so sorry, I should have been wearing a condom. I– we get tested all the time just because we come into contact with weird shit on missions but I still–”

Eddie stops Clint’s almost horrified rambling with a kiss. “I should have brought it up earlier, but when you took your pants off I just wanted to touch you.” Eddie kisses Clint again, this time softer. “It’s a benefit of having an alien symbiote: he protects me from all bodily harm, including diseases. If I break an arm, he heals it. If a virus gets into my bloodstream, he kills it.” He shrugs. “Nothing for me to pass on, and no need for me to worry about catching anything. So condoms are unnecessary.”

Clint closes his eyes and lets out his breath. It’s been so long since he’s had sex with anyone but Bucky. It was such a stupid mistake–

“Hey doll,” Bucky says. “Get out of your head. Everything is okay.”

He knows that. But–

“Clint,” Bucky says, and it’s the tone that makes Clint open his eyes and look at Bucky. “Do you need me to help you stop thinking for awhile?”

“Yes please,” he says. He hadn’t expected this today, not with the others here, but with his breath coming like this, with his heart racing like this… Yes. Bucky can help.

“Alright. Stand next to the bed.”

Clint moves without thinking, and that’s the point. He trusts Bucky.

Bucky puts a pillow on the floor and tells Clint to kneel on it. “Get comfortable, because you’re just going to kneel here, hands behind your back, and not move. You can watch Eddie and Venom and me on the bed, and you can answer if one of us talks to you, but you’re not going to move. Understand?”

Clint nods. He can already feel himself starting to drift.

There’s a sharp sound; Bucky’s hands clapping together right in front of his face. “I need words, Clint.”

“Yes,” he breathes. “I won’t move.”

Bucky smiles and runs a hand through his hair. “I know you won’t. You’re going to be so good for me.”

“Yes,” he breathes again, looking up into Bucky’s eyes. They are soft, and so full of love.

Then Bucky kisses the top of his head and climbs back onto the bed.

“He’ll be fine,” he murmurs to Eddie. “He just gets too deep into his own head sometimes. Letting me take control for a little while, it calms him, helps him find his center. Are you...is this okay?”

Clint can’t read the expression on Eddie’s face, his angle is wrong, but Eddie nods. “Green,” he says. Then, so softly Clint almost misses it, he adds, “I get it.”

There’s a tender moment, Eddie tucking Bucky’s hair behind his ear and Bucky pressing their foreheads together. And then Bucky grins and says, “In the meantime…” He climbs on top of Eddie, straddling his thighs, planting his fists at Eddie’s shoulders so Eddie’s almost caged. Eddie laughs, says, “Oh, so _that’s_ how we’re gonna play it?” and just smirks at Bucky until he breaks, laughing and leaning down to kiss Eddie.

Clint kneels by the bed. He’s breathing, breathing, just breathing and watching Bucky and Eddie and Venom. Sounds wash over him; some as familiar as the air he’s breathing, others new. A sound punches out of Eddie and he thinks, _I want to make him do that_ , but then Bucky looks at him with a smile and oh, that is a smile just for him. Every time Bucky smiles, every time Clint hears him laugh, something inside him pings.

He always wants Bucky to be happy.

There are hands tracing over skin; unfamiliar hands tracing skin he knows better than he knows his own. Venom’s black tendrils join in, twisting and writhing, slipping in where it’s hard for fingers and tongues. Bucky groans his pleasure and Clint soaks it in, breathes it with the oxygen he takes without thought.

He floats. They are still there, on the bed, pleasuring one another. There are moans, and cries, and smiles. He gathers them when they float near enough. He sees Bucky’s hands, two hands so different but both so _Bucky_ , they are digging into flesh he doesn’t know but wants to know, wants to learn, leaving bruises that won’t last. Bucky’s skin, Eddie’s skin, so alike yet so different.

Eddie cries out– _oh fuck oh fuck_ –and then a wordless shriek and something that sounds like a growling, yeowling cat– _Venom?_ –and then the drawn out groan that is Bucky coming, a sound he knows in his bones, in his skin.

Then all is quiet except for the sound of the air–Clint breathes, slow and deep; Bucky breathes in shudders, trying to regain a rhythm; Eddie breathes in hitches and gasps, breathes for himself and for Venom. If Venom even needs to breathe.

Clint can feel peace in the room, contentment falling over them like warm snowflakes.

He drifts.

“Clint. Hey, Clint. Love. Come back to me.”

The words come from far away. But it’s Bucky’s voice, and he focuses his eyes to see Bucky sitting on the bed in front of him. When did he move? Clint doesn’t remember.

Bucky smiles, and there’s that ping deep inside again. “Feeling better?” he asks.

It takes him a moment to find the word, he has to pull at it to get it to his lips. “Yes,” he finally says. His voice is like sandpaper, raspy and dry with disuse.

Bucky’s hand on his face, in his hair. “You’re so good for me. So good.”

He feels warm all over from the praise, knows his face must be pink. He leans into Bucky’s hand for a moment, and then Bucky is easing him to his feet, taking all his weight so he doesn’t fall. He’s stiff all over, must have been kneeling, floating, for longer than he realized. It happens that way sometimes.

Bucky picks him up–he loves when Bucky picks him up–and eases him onto the bed. “Hold onto him?” Bucky asks. “I’m just gonna get some snacks.” It’s only when Clint feels Eddie’s arms enfolding him from behind does he realize Bucky isn’t talking to him. He blinks up at Bucky, who murmurs, “This okay?”

“All green here,” Clint says. He smiles–as much as he can in his sleepy state–then adds, “Thanks.”

Bucky brushes a kiss across his temple and then he’s gone, but Eddie’s still there, solid and warm behind him. For a few minutes they just lie together in the silence, but then Clint asks, “You two have fun with Buck?” he asks. 

Eddie hums, a happy sort of sound, and Clint can feel the smile pressed into his shoulder. “We had fun, yes. He’s got _stamina_ , doesn’t he?”

“Mmhmm,” Clint says, snippets of past experiences flicking through his mind one after another. Then, because he can’t let Bucky have all the glory, he adds, “But I’m more bendy.”

Eddie’s breath catches. “ _Fuck_ , Barton, you can’t just _say_ things like that. I’m exhausted, I need a little time to recover.”

“So does he.” It’s Bucky, sliding a tray of salami and cheese and strawberries onto the bed. In his other hand he’s got a basket full of three bottles of gatorade and three bottles of water. “Come on, both of you sit up. Time to replenish.” He opens a bottle of gatorade and holds it to Clint’s lips, running the other hand through the mess of blond hair on his head. “Better?”

After a few swallows Clint smiles at Bucky and takes the bottle for himself. “Much. Again, thanks. I needed that.”

“And now you need food, and then a nap. All of us, I think.”

So they picnic on the bed, snacking on meat and cheese and feeding each other strawberries with their fingers. Clint and Bucky both jump when Venom growls “Hungry, Eddie!’ but Eddie just laughs and says, “Welcome to my world. He’s _always_ hungry.” So Bucky finds some leftover chinese in the fridge, and Venom says that’ll do until they get pizza later. Because it’s clear to all of them now that Eddie and Venom are staying all day, if not all night.

When the food is gone Eddie’s the first one to remind them they all need sleep. “Look at Clint, he can barely keep his eyes open.”

It’s true, he’s been curled up in the middle of the bed, his head on Bucky’s lap and a hand reached out to hold Eddie’s, their fingers intertwined, just listening to conversation flow around him. He’s warm, and comfortable, and safe, and he doesn’t want to move. Eddie’s been talking about riding his bike across the country, about one night when he and Venom stopped in the mountains and just slept at an overlook, under the stars. Venom kept them warm, and told him about what outer space looks like from outside an atmosphere.

“Yeah, we’d better put him to bed,” Bucky says.

“’m in bed,” Clint mumbles. He holds tight to Eddie’s hand.

Bucky leans down and whispers in Clint’s ear. “He’s not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. We’re just cleanin’ off the bed so we can sleep. I promise.”

“I’ll help,” he says, struggling to sit up.

“No you won’t,” Bucky says with a chuckle. “We’ve got it.”

And they do; less than a minute later they’re slipping into bed, one on either side of him. “How’d I get so lucky, bein’ in the middle?”

“We’ll discuss sleeping arrangements later,” Bucky says dryly. “Maybe a lottery of sorts. Now will you please stop talking and go to sleep?”

“He really is a bossy one,” Eddie says.

“Trust me, you’ve only seen the beginning,” Clint says.

“I’m right here,” Bucky says. Clint can practically hear the eyeroll.

“Right where we want you, right boys?” Clint says, kissing Bucky’s shoulder.

Eddie’s laugh is sleepy. “Right where we want you. Both of you.”


End file.
